


plaid, paper, pencil, pine

by meteoritemermaids



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Boarding School, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Murder Mystery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-14
Updated: 2019-02-14
Packaged: 2019-10-23 01:38:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17673977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meteoritemermaids/pseuds/meteoritemermaids
Summary: Neo Culture and Technology Academy for Boys. A private boarding school for the elite. Somehow, Huang Renjun has managed to find himself attending on a full-ride scholarship.He might not possess as large of a fortune as most of the students, but he possesses an inquisitive mind and the desire to learn more about two deaths and a mysterious disappearance.





	plaid, paper, pencil, pine

**Author's Note:**

> due to time constraints from poor planning on my behalf, finals season, and falling sick twice during the writing period, this fic is not quite what it was meant to be, but it's as good as it's gonna get. (un-betaed.)
> 
> eta: warnings for mentions of past relationships (but maybe not the ones you might think)
> 
>  
> 
> written for the prompt: “ _There's been a series of murders at the boarding school Person A attends, and each victim had been known to have some sort of relation to Person B, another student. Person A can't keep their curiosity to themselves and ends up trying to get closer to Person B in an attempt to unravel the mystery._ ”

It is painfully obvious how things are supposed to work in a place like Neo Culture and Technology Academy for Boys. A fixed hierarchy that goes beyond and above the current student body and is rooted in longstanding tradition. The usual high school experience, of course, but with a history and numerous rules both written and unspoken that can only have been formed and shaped by the very nature of the prestigious institution.

Despite this, the surprising thing to Renjun is that there is no king to rule the school this year. 

There is however a conglomeration of princes, but no one who steps up to take the crown. The law of this microcosm is unbalanced, the natural order a disarray that has students left confused. The centre and force of gravity is obvious, but none of them seem to take a single step out of order at any given point in time. They move as a unit, untouchable. Unattainable.

Lee Donghyuck. Lee Jeno. Na Jaemin.

Somehow, Renjun has ended up swept into their midst. The thing is that Renjun considers himself someone who doesn’t exactly stand out in a crowd. Shorter than the average, skinny to the point of being scrawny. His most distinctive feature is a snaggletooth he hasn’t afforded to fix yet. How he even registered on their radar is beyond him, but only a few days into the first week Na Jaemin had sat down next to him for lunch and Renjun had waited for him to tell him to scamper off and sit elsewhere. 

He had been met by a disarmingly sunny smile instead, a jovial _Hi_ and _I hope you don’t mind_ , that had left him so surprised he was only capable of acquiescing with a nod. A week later Renjun can still observe them from afar, until he’s spotted and unceremoniously beckoned. There is an unspoken expectation that he will immediately give in that he isn’t too fond of, and he’s sure this is hindering him from forming other friendships. It is a certainty that the princes are likely to throw away their commoner plaything the moment they bore of him.

The feeling that it is only Jaemin who wants him around is one Renjun can’t shake off.

Jeno comes across as cold even if Jaemin tries to make excuses for him. Inseparable since birth, Jaemin describes them, so Jeno never learnt how to act around people. Jaemin puffs up his chest and says gleefully, “I’m his better half.” Jeno makes a face and dodges when Jaemin moves in to ruffle his hair, perhaps press a kiss to his cheek.

“He’s shy,” Jaemin explains. Jeno doesn’t look shy, to Renjun. His shoulders are straight, the set of his jaw sharp. Jeno looks cold and aloof, disinterestedly people-watching with Donghyuck. On the first day of school, Renjun had felt those discerning eyes on his back and turned around to see what could only be described as a glare directed at him from the one and only Lee Jeno. 

On the other hand, Donghyuck seems to approach Renjun as though he is a puppy who has found a new chew toy. Enthusiastically digging in whenever an opportunity presents itself, since verbally Donghyuck’s quickness is unparalleled. Renjun considers his grasp of the Korean language good, but he barely has time to form a response before Donghyuck’s moved on or dug his teeth in deeper.

All around them, people sing Mark Lee’s praises. Share their laments. 

”Who was Mark Lee?” Renjun asks. The look Donghyuck levels him with speaks for itself. 

All students attending the school were seemingly obligated to know who Mark Lee was. Still, Renjun hadn’t attended the school the year before. Had never met the prodigal son, the school’s pride. He should’ve been able to get away with an innocent question, he thinks, and scratches an itch at his thigh. Stubby nails catch on the material of his trousers.

Images of Mark Lee’s smiling face look down at him from their places on walls, picture frames and glass glinting in the sunlight. 

“ _Who was Mark Lee?_ ” Donghyuck repeats, distinctly mocking and voice pitching higher and more nasal. Renjun knows he doesn’t sound like that at all. “Only the greatest person to ever walk the halls of this place. Ugh, I can’t believe I just said that.”

Jaemin laughs loudly. “We all miss him greatly. A great senior and an even better hyung.”

Even Jeno seems to agree, his eyes a little brighter and a small upturn of his lips.

 

 

A few weeks further into the semester Donghyuck is headed out for the day. A choir performance was the excuse, something he just couldn’t miss, something about having an important solo part for one of songs. There has to be some truth to it, because he is easily allowed to leave school for the afternoon and evening. Something about it looking good for the school’s image to have multi-talents.

They’re standing outside to see him off. A spectacle for Lee Donghyuck.

“I can’t believe Yerim-noona still talks to you, after all the trouble you caused.” Jeno shakes his head. His fringe seems to be getting a bit long, the hair falling into his eyes. Jaemin cackles, as he is prone to do when it involves Donghyuck getting the brunt of it.

“She likes me the best,” Donghyuck says and shrugs, “what can I say. You losers want anything?”

Renjun stands with both hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans. Jaemin starts listing off chocolates, counting them on his fingers as Donghyuck nods. The wind is cool, almost enough to be called cold. A chill travels down his spine. After the long and overly hot summer, autumn seems to come too fast.

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll see what I can do.” Donghyuck turns to Renjun. “And for you, Injun?”

“Nothing, really,” Renjun says. He wishes to go inside. Belatedly, he adds, “But thanks.”

Donghyuck’s mouth twists, but he doesn’t say anything. The car pulls up to where they’re standing and behind the wheel a young woman presumably around their age is sitting. Smiling winningly Jaemin leans down, leans close, and chirps, “Hi, noona.”

“Na Jaemin.”

“That’s my name!” 

Yerim rolls her eyes. “It’s not going to work this time either. I’m only driving today to make Donghyuck and me even.”

“And you wound _me_ ,” Donghyuck interferes, “I would never do anything of whatever you might suggest.”

“Let’s not tell untruths. And maybe let’s not have this conversation in public,” she says, eyeing Renjun as though noticing him for the first time. He manages a half-smile, nervous to have her gaze on him. He can feel Jeno’s presence move closer. The sleeves of their jackets brushing. 

“Renjun’s a friend,” Donghyuck says. 

“Just get in the car,” Yerim says. “We’re going to be late.”

Donghyuck rounds the car, opening the passenger door, and slips inside. He leans over, close to Yerim and waves at the three remaining boys.

Jaemin and Jeno flank Renjun as they make their way back toward the dormitories. Other students are milling about at a respectful distance, as though afraid to approach. More and more, Renjun has noticed how potential friends have dwindled the more obviously close he has become with the other boys.

“I need to go start on my physics homework,” Jeno says quietly.

“You haven’t started yet? Jeno, that’s due tomorrow!” Jaemin exclaims. Jeno grins lopsidedly, slightly abashed. Renjun has never before seen him act like this.

“Well...” Jeno drags the single word out. “It’ll be fine. Mostly just repetition of what we went through in mechanics last year, only some new stuff.”

“I genuinely can’t believe you!”

Renjun chuckles quietly at how aghast Jaemin seems at Jeno’s behaviour. Starting physics homework the night before sounds like nightmare-material to him, as much as he can procrastinate at things he just does not want to do, but some subjects have to be started on time. 

Inside again, Jaemin puts an arm around Renjun’s shoulders and waves goodbye to Jeno. Jeno shoots them a look and shakes his head. Renjun smiles at him, still amused at how the seemingly unshakeable cool of Jeno’s can disappear so easily. 

The walk to Jaemin’s room is in a comfortable silence. Once inside, Renjun slips into what has become his usual spot. The windowsills in this area of the building are deeper and the perfect place to sit. The views aren’t as much fun as some of the others, but when he leans his head against the window Renjun can see a large stretch of the sky. That is good enough.

Jaemin breaks the silence.

“If it’s the money that’s issue, don’t worry about that, I don’t mind paying for your snacks,” Jaemin tells him.

“Oh, I,” Renjun stammers. “Thank you, but that isn’t the case?”

“Is that a question or..?”

“No, no— I just, you caught me by surprise?”

“You’re very cute, Injun-ah,” Jaemin says then. His smile is warm, reminiscent of late summer days. “Let’s study.”

Sometimes it’s very difficult to know what to say to Jaemin, so Renjun appreciates that he can just nod. Glad that he’s carried his school bag around with him, sketchbook haphazardly thrown inside this morning. Working on any other assignment seems too tedious. His thoughts travel back to Jeno, stuck doing physics on his lonesome.

“You would’ve gotten along with Jungwoo-hyung,” Jaemin says thoughtfully. He’s resting his head on his hand, watching Renjun draw.

“Why don’t you introduce us then?” Renjun asks. Jaemin freezes 

“He’s, uh, he died. A couple years ago. Mysterious circumstances, some, freak accident. Sorry. Don’t mean to sound so blasé about it,“ Jaemin says. “He was a good hyung.”

 

 

 

Park Jisung is a first year student. Renjun assumed that he too must have missed out on meeting Mark Lee and hopes to find a friend who is as much of an outsider as he is, but Jisung regales the tale of growing up next-door neighbours with Mark. Not quite what had been expected, but Renjun takes whatever solace he can find in a presence less domineering than those of the other friends he’s made. 

 

 

 

“So I was a bit curious about Jungwoo, since Jaemin said we would’ve gotten along, and you know, there are a lot of pictures if you look through the school archives where he’s hanging out with Mark and you guys? But if you look at the older pictures, he’s with Mark and some other boys, like this Yoonoh—”

“Yoonoh? Jung Yoonoh?” Jeno interrupts.

“You knew him?”

“Ah.” Jeno scratches the back of his neck, “Not really? He was acquainted with my cousin, Dongyoung, so I’ve met him a couple of times. Seemed nice though. He was a friend of Mark’s too, I think, before the whole.. accident.”

“Accident?”

“Yeah, it was… bad,” Jeno looks solemn. Terse. Uncomfortable enough for his cold mask to slip on again.

“There’s been many accidents here then?”

Jeno’s eyebrows pull tight, a momentary frown crossing his features. “Guess you could say that.”

 

 

 

Unsettling discomfort creeps into Renjun’s mind; it happens so slowly it takes him days to realise that he’s feeling low at all, that something within him has shifted. 

He’s searching for any mention of a death of a high school student from NCT, records of even a small notice somewhere but comes up with nothing. The only thing he knows is their connection to the school and through that he’s found images from their old online profiles and in school archives of them together, belonging in the same friends group. The same friends group as the mysteriously disappeared Mark Lee.

In some manner, Renjun has been aware for a long time that rich people can do whatever they want. That money can fix most things, can make things go away. Now is the time that Renjun learns it to be true.

 

 

 

”God, why are you so obsessed with Mark? You never even met him,” Donghyuck sneers. He shuffles the card deck in his hands; a peek of colour catches Renjun’s eye. It isn’t an ordinary playing card deck, but rather on each card there seems to be an individual piece of artwork. 

Donghyuck notices that he’s got Renjun’s full attention, and stops the movements of his hands. ”You know anything about tarot, Injunnie?”

Renjun shakes his head. ”I don’t, no.”

”Want me to do a reading for you?”

“Sure?”

“Just draw a couple of cards, and place them on the table.” 

One by one, Renjun places the cards on the table. He pauses, looks to Donghyuck for direction. Donghyuck nods at the cards still in his hand and says, “One more.”

“You said a couple,” Renjun mutters, but does as he’s told.

“We’re doing a three card spread,” Donghyuck says, as though it should be obvious. 

Renjun just barely doesn't roll his eyes.

“And this is the order they appeared? Oh my!” It is not a positive sound. A complaint, a call of negativity. Renjun chews on a piece of loose skin by his thumbnail. Maybe Donghyuck just isn’t happy because he finds the reading uninteresting. “Your poor luck, Injunnie.”

Nevermind.

“First you drew the wheel of fortune, but when it is reversed that makes it a warning of coming change. A turn of events out of your control that will be difficult to face, everything turning out for the worst. Don’t take risks, try to find perspective,” Donghyuck explains. “Your second card is the magician, but that too is reversed.”

“Let me guess, that’s really bad too? Does this count as hazing?” Renjun wonders aloud. He locks gazes with Donghyuck. Feeling bold, he continues, “How much do you really know about tarot, and how much is just to terrorise people?”

Donghyuck sputters with indignant disbelief and surprise at Renjun’s remark. “You little—!”

Renjun can’t help it, he breaks into laughter, and soon Donghyuck joins in. It feels good, like a weight coming off his chest.

“May I continue?” Donghyuck asks haughtily. 

 

 

 

The four of them are sprawled out on one of the assortments of couches and armchairs in the far corner of the study hall, where no one in the staff ever passes by. The fabric smells a little of old smoke and it is scratchy beneath Renjun’s palm where the softer velvety parts have disappeared, worn down with time. 

A burst of laughter from group seated a few metres away jolts Renjun out of his own thoughts.

”Jaemin’s sneaking out tonight to see his girlfriend,” Donghyuck drawls. He lazily eyes Jaemin from the corner of his eye and seems smug even when Jaemin jostles him in a way that goes beyond being playful. 

”At least I’m not stupid enough to get caught with a girl on school grounds,” Jaemin shoots back, a grin on his face that show way too many teeth.

Renjun watches the back and forth in silence, nibbling at the sandwich he’s holding. Being the audience is something he doesn’t mind for this occasion and he much prefers it to getting dragged into whatever grudge or mess this is. Opposite him, Jeno looks bored. Almost as cold as the first day met a few months ago. 

It’s the tightening of his jaw, the straight line of his mouth. The disinterest in his eyes as he stares off into the distance. 

(Or perhaps Jeno is looking at something, but it is probably much more inconspicuous if Renjun doesn’t turn around to check.)

“Still don’t understand why you thought it’d be a good idea to bring her here,” Jaemin says. 

Donghyuck rolls his eyes. 

The school is located just far enough out from the city that few will bother doing the journey by bike and even fewer by foot. Probably as intended, but Renjun wonders if whoever had planned it merely hadn’t considered the dedication of some boys at the opportunity to have some fun.

“Can we maybe not start this again,” Jeno says. Jaemin and Donghyuck both turn to him. Jeno squirms in his seat almost unnoticeably, staring all the more intently into the distance. The tension is thick and weighs heavy like October fog.

 

 

 

”Sorry I’ve been so bad at calling, um, and just generally keeping in touch,” Renjun says in Mandarin, the familiar tones and vowels falling easily from his lips. Exaggeratedly, Chenle glares at him. Pouts.

”You’re not even replying to my messages,” Chenle whines. It’s a fair complaint and Renjun considers himself lucky that he isn’t being chewed out because despite his propensity for it when the mood strikes. It was a gamble that paid off, as that was his reason for calling Chenle rather than any of his other old friends, knowing that Sicheng would’ve had his head despite being the person who has the most regular contact with Renjun outside his immediate family.

“Sorry,” Renjun says, and he truly is.

Chenle fake-cries, loudly. “You don’t even care about me anymore!”

“That’s not true,” Renjun disagrees, but guilt gnaws at him.

“You’re not supposed to take that _that_ seriously,” Chenle says. The way he flip-flops between loud and quietly contemplative isn’t unusual. The guilt pushes Renjun to apologise nonetheless.

“Sorry.”

“I could pick up the phone if I were that bothered,” Chenle says.

Renjun smiles, though he can feel it tremble. He can see on Chenle’s face, the play of muscles, that he spots it too. “Are you saying you don’t miss me?”

The laughter he gets in response is high-pitched, classical Chenle, and his smile grows wider. Warmth spreads in his chest. 

“Of course I do,” Chenle says, at last. Earnestly. “You know I do, right?”

“I miss you too.”

With his free hand, he starts drawing nonsense shapes on the material of his pillowcase. A ticklish sensation runs down his fingers, up his spine. He shudders.

“Are you eating enough?”

“What do you mean by that!?” Renjun whines. Chenle laughs again, good-naturedly. 

“Someone has to worry about you. I don’t trust those rich trust fund kids.”

“You’re a rich trust fund kid too?” is a bit of an understatement, but it is what Renjun says, in the most incredulously accusing tone he can muster. The familiar banter and teasing is routine, something they fall into all too easily.

 

 

 

“Where are you going?” Jeno asks.

“To the library, I’m seeing Jisung.”

Jaemin attempts, and fails, to hide his snort. “He’s a cute kid, Renjun, but he’s a kid.”

Frustration clouds Renjun’s judgement when he snaps, “I’m helping him with his art assignment. And he’s fun to talk to.”

He knows that they’re going to talk after this, that Donghyuck might call him emotional or pubertal again, that someone will point out that Renjun gets along with a first year because they’re of the same maturity. It shouldn’t matter. It really shouldn’t. Jaemin thinks Jisung cute and loves hearing him talk, yet Renjun’s friendship with him is one to make light of. Some people can get away with things because they have enough social capital.

Jisung lights up when he spots Renjun. He has already got a big drawing pad set up in front of him, and holding a piece of charcoal that all but disappears between large fingers.

A typical nose scrunch, and Jisung clearing his throat. “Thanks for, um, helping me out.”

“It’s no problem,” Renjun replies with a small smile. “Let’s get started.”

When dinner time comes around, Renjun makes his way to the dining hall after Jisung thanks him profusely for his help. He locates Jeno sitting alone at their usual table, Donghyuck and Jaemin nowhere to be seen. After nabbing a drink and a sandwich, shooting an apologetic glance towards the kitchen staff who gives him a disapproving scowl in return, he considers whether or not to join Jeno. If Jeno would prefer being alone to his company. Jeno spots him across the room though, and seems to make the decision for him by raising his hand and waving invitingly.

Renjun places his food on the table and slides into the seat opposing Jeno.

“You have a,” Jeno says and makes a motion, pointing to his face.

Renjun blinks owlishly. Mirroring Jeno’s movement he touches his hand to his cheek and he flushes when he realises there has to be traces of charcoal on his skin, faded shades of grey and maybe a few patches dark enough to still be called black. He had forgotten to wash his face when he washed his hands, not thinking he would’ve managed to get it all over himself.

Jeno smiles. “Need some help with that?”

As though spring has come early, butterflies come to life in Renjun’s stomach. Fluttering, strangely new. He pauses with his hand pressed to his skin, not quite trying to rub it off nor to hide it from view, the surprise more from his own feelings than Jeno’s words.

“Am I making it worse?” Renjun asks, tone gently self-deprecating. Jeno’s smile grows. As does the amount of butterflies. So tediously trite, Renjun thinks his own imagination and emotions, but he can’t stop it when Jeno’s soft deep voice cuts through the air with a light chuckle.

“Don’t know, but thought you might want it gone before those two show up,”

“Jaemin would say it’s cute,” Renjun says thoughtlessly.

“Yeah,” Jeno agrees easily. Then, he says something and Renjun wonders how much of it is his imagination when he catches the words _and he’s right_.

 

 

 

“My mother didn’t want me to return this year, you know,” Donghyuck says. “She wanted me to stay in Jeju, or at least change schools if I was set at staying up here in Seoul area.”

“Why’s that?” Renjun asks. Their school is renowned; plenty of the top businessmen, politicians, and entertainers hail from within these walls.

“Mark-hyung disappeared. No one’s been able to get in touch with him. She didn’t like the sound of that.” Donghyuck stares him down. “Your brand of crazy is transmittable because I’m starting to think fucked up shit. Asking all those questions… Injun, do you know what you’ve done?”

“I didn’t mean to— I’m sorry for bringing it up,” Renjun says.

Donghyuck shakes his head. “No, it’s good. I’m not just mad at him anymore. I think that’s. Yeah.”

It isn’t a lot to go on. 

“Jeno knows something about Mark. He thinks I don’t know, but he’s shit at lying.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that Lee Jeno is a piece of shit liar who knows something but won’t spill and I won’t ask,” Donghyuck hisses conspiratorially. “He’ll break. One day.”

 

 

 

The decadence, the glamour, the waste. Renjun sits with both legs thrown over one of the armrests and he leans over to grab the edge of the desk, bending his arms and then pushing away with all his strength, setting off a spinning motion in the desk chair at a high speed. The room warps, spins, and he pulls his legs close to the armrest; the chair spins even faster for the following moments. 

The edge of the desk is dangerously close a couple of times and Renjun hopes he won’t bang his shins on the wood. The resulting bruising would be bad and he has never quite liked poking at physical bruises as much as he does the remnants of past emotional bruising suffered.

As nice as it had been of Jaemin to check if he wanted to join the Na family for the holidays when he said he wouldn’t be able to go home, Renjun hopes that the break from schoolwork while still being at school will give him some more time to investigate. Snoop around, as Donghyuck has come to call it, almost fond in his mockery now.

Renjun slips on his shoes and out into the hallways. He doesn’t get very far before he all but runs into a familiar form, pulling to a stop just moments before collision.

“Sorry,” Jeno says, sheepishly.

“You’re still at school?”

“My parents are away for a spontaneous vacation, my sister is visiting her future in-laws,” Jeno says. He huffs out a small laugh. “I thought it’d be better to just stay, it’s only a few days after all.”

First impressions can be wrong. Renjun knows this very well, almost intimately. His insides twist pleasantly when he is met by Jeno’s gentle smile and crescent eyes. 

“I need to go back to my room. Gotta call Chenle. See you later.” Renjun hurries out, both verbally and physically. Being nervous around a good looking boy isn’t new. Being close friends with the boy he’s nervous around on isn’t new either, even he had tried his best for the longest to avoid it happening again.

 

 

 

They’re alone in Jeno’s dorm room. Most of the students are gone for the holidays, at home or away with their families. Renjun has seen Jisung around, talked to him a few times, but other than that there are mostly just fleeting acquaintances and Jeno. So here they are, Renjun in the chair by the desk and overlooking the views outside the window, and Jeno sat on the bed. Donghyuck’s words from much earlier come back to him.

“Jeno, what happened with Mark? To Mark?” Renjun asks, as if apropos nothing.

“Depends on—”

“Don’t play dumb,” Renjun interrupts, softly. Jeno’s eyes widen momentarily as he meets Renjun’s eyes, and then he focuses his gaze elsewhere. Somewhere behind Renjun’s left shoulder, where nothing of any real interest would be. Renjun clears his throat. “It doesn’t suit you.”

Jeno sits quietly. Fiddles with the hem of his shirt, his grip tightening and loosening at short intervals. 

“Don’t you think you’ve heard it all?”

”Jeno,” Renjun says, ”please, what exactly happened with Mark?”

Jeno slips his fingers underneath the glasses he’s wearing, pressing fingertips against his eyes and his knuckles bump against the frames. It pushes the glasses up and makes them stand out further, a bit askew. A slow exhale through his nose. It looks a bit stupid and Renjun finds it difficult to refrain from commenting. Quietness usually fares better at times like these though, so silently he waits. The wall-mounted clock ticks as seconds pass.

”Don’t know. Mark was set to go overseas for university the moment he stepped out the doors to this place. No one’s heard from him since. We don’t know why, but…” Jeno’s voice trails off. Is thin, fragile. Like the first ice of late autumn, something crisp that won’t take much to destroy. “But I think it’s because something his parents found out.”

Renjun scrunches his nose. ”Found out? Like, what exactly?”

Jeno hesitates.

”Mark-hyung, uh, he played for. Y’know. Both teams.” Jeno’s normally pale cheeks turn red, and darker still as he continues.

”We... ” he starts, but it is all he says before he trails off again. Goes quiet.

There are many ways that the sentence following that one word can go, but with the just previously disclosed information Renjun’s mind is a jumbled, frantic mess that is at once drawing a number of conclusions. 

”We?” Renjun attempts to ask lightly, gently, but some of the lightly budding hysteria must be noticeable even in his confusion because Jeno flinches back as if he’s been hit. 

”Nothing, I’m— we— sorry, just forget it. Stress. A lot is going on now. Exams, soon.”

Again, seconds tick by. 

”You’re a terrible liar, Lee Jeno.”

The anxiety rolls off Jeno’s frame in waves. Hunched over, broad shoulders stiff and drawn up until they almost touch his ears. The way he tries to make himself seem small enough to almost disappear evokes a feeling of helplessness, and a desire to help. To reach out, to make the discomfort go away. It is a new feeling in relation to Jeno. Renjun bites down on his lip. 

A reluctant long exhale, shaking, and Jeno lifts his head up. His eyes are searching for something he must find an answer in Renjun’s expression. Jeno looks almost desperate; to keep the words in and his secret safe, or maybe like he’s close to bursting at the seams from not saying it.

”You can’t tell anyone. Promise.”

”Yeah,” Renjun breathes out, ”promise.”

”Mark’s brother, he— he. Caught me and Mark, in the dorms.” Jeno’s voice is small. “Kissing.”

The world comes to a halt. Renjun can’t get the image out of his head. The Mark Lee he’s seen only seen in pictures comes to life in the clearest of ways. Mark Lee and Jeno. _Kissing_. Maybe even here, in Jeno’s room. Something stirs in him, twists and coils, like something has tightened around his windpipe and has him in its power. Pushing it down takes effort, it has already taken ground.

“You’ve not heard from Mark since he graduated?” Renjun asks. He hears his own voice as if he was underwater. Distant. Distorted.

Jeno shakes his head. “We never. Again. Not after.”

The phrasing is unclear and Renjun wonders if whether Jeno means that they were never in contact again after Mark’s graduation or he means that they never kissed again after getting caught. He doesn’t ask for clarification. The answer is probably the same.

“I’m…” Renjun falters. Is it appropriate to tell Jeno that he’s sorry? 

“Renjun, you can’t tell anyone.”

There is an urgency to Jeno’s voice. Renjun nods. Of course he wouldn’t.

“I promised,” he says. “I better get going.”

The dark and just a little bit sinister feeling remains even after Renjun has bidden Jeno goodbye. There are more secrets in this place than anyone could ever imagine. Does anyone else know this about Jeno? Does his best friends know?

Distracted by his thoughts, Renjun moves through the winding hallways toward his own room; the space is empty and quiet, completely devoid of anyone else. It is just Renjun and his thoughts and a small chill in the air, the draft from one of the old windows. It sends tingles the back of his neck and he shivers. The approaching winter is almost within touching distance.

Then, everything happens so fast.

Between flashing visions of braining himself, skull cracking open and bleeding out before anyone could even find him, of his spine snapping and neck breaking, someone grabs his arm and pulls him up, and the world spins even though he’s on his feet again.

Someone caught him. Renjun breathes shallowly, fast short breaths. Close to hyperventilating.

”Hyung,” Jisung murmurs, voice a low rumble in his throat and chest. Renjun can feel the vibrations against his back. His heart is beating fast in his chest, thumping against his ribcage as if an animal wishing to be let out. ”It’s not like you to trip.”

”It happens,” Renjun replies shakily. He trips. Anyone can trip. But he could almost swear he had felt hands on his back — a shove, a push. The lack of sleep must be getting to him, the stress of their upcoming exams tremendous. The few but gory details from Jungwoo’s and Yoonoh’s deaths. Not letting go before he deems Renjun steady on his feet, Jisung first helps balance Renjun in his hold. Thoughts are still racing through his head but Renjun tries to focus, tries to control his breathing. Slow it down, take deeper breaths.

“You.. okay, hyung?”

“This is what it takes for you to remember honorifics, brat?” Renjun mutters weakly, a question so flat it has Jisung giggle slightly and the tension breaks. “I’m not going to die.”

“Not this time at least,” Jisung says quietly. If he’s saying it to comfort Renjun or himself, Renjun can’t tell. Then the corner of his mouth quirks up, twisted into a teasing smirk. “What a shame.”

“You—!” Renjun shakes his head and stops himself from finishing his exclamation. “Jisung-ah,” he continues, voice dripping with sweetness. Jisung gulps, but mischievousness glitters in his eyes. 

 

 

 

Jaemin returns with a golden tan and even more relaxed disposition than usual. An airness has overtaken his being. He pushes his hair back and grins, almost blindingly, and Renjun scoffs. There are no people around to impress, only him. 

Jaemin bumps his shoulder to Renjun’s. “You getting anywhere with that investigation of yours?”

“Yes. No. I don’t know.” Renjun pinches the bridge of his nose. “ _Maybe_. But maybe I only want to be.”

They reach the classroom only to find it empty once inside. Neither of them had bothered to give more than a cursory glance at the clock. They find their desks. While they wait for class to begin and their classmates to arrive, Jaemin says, “You and Jeno seem to have gotten closer over break?”

Renjun hums noncommittally. “I guess.”

“I was surprised, according to my grandma, grandma Lee surely was devastated to miss out on her favourite grandchild’s presence.”

 

 

 

Many nights when he has troubles falling asleep and contemplates calling Chenle or Sicheng or anyone he knew from back home, his thoughts wanders. 

Often, Renjun wonders if Jeno knows how Renjun feels about boys, if that’s why he felt he could trust him enough to tell him about what he and Mark had shared. Maybe it doesn’t mean anything in particular, nothing special. Maybe it was just a spur of the moment thing. Jeno is transparent and easy to read once he has let his guard down, yet this had come as a shock. That Lee Jeno could be uncomfortably vulnerable and scared, in a way Renjun can relate to all too easily.

Sometimes, Renjun wonders if Jeno has thought about other boys the way he had with Mark. He must have — wouldn’t have taken the risk to tell Renjun otherwise, if it had only been a one off. There are several ways this line of thought can be continued but the end result is always the same, so Renjun is quick to shoot it down before he goes down that slippery-slope.

“Don’t stay up so late,” Donghyuck says, berates, as if he has any room to talk without being a hypocrite. On the other hand he does not come across as dead on his feet, so perhaps he has a point. Functioning relatively well on less sleep than any person should be able to could probably be written on a resume, if that wasn’t an expectation needed to be met. 

Donghyuck tugs at his sleeve. They both come to a stop. 

“I’m serious. You’ve gotta take care.”

As though disgusted by his own openness Donghyuck is quick to add, ”Who knows what crazy shit you’ll start otherwise.”

Renjun smiles. It’s a small thing, easy enough to keep hidden when they start walking again. A part of him wishes to prod, to poke fun at Donghyuck. The bigger part of him is just happy to see that he’s broken through Donghyuck’s blasé act to the degree that he’s started caring about him, beyond the enjoyment of setting him off. Though they may still get on each other’s nerves, it isn’t as antagonistic or mean.

 

 

 

Murmured whispers fill the large dining hall. 

“Have you heard?” Donghyuck whisper-shrieks, a high pitched note that would be. His face has an unusual pallor to it, underneath his normal skin tone. Renjun shakes his head. He hasn’t heard. 

This is how he learns that body has been found. That remains were found buried on school grounds. The room is tilting just slightly and the breath he takes is shuddering.

“They don’t know yet who it is, but it’s our uniform! They say it’s—” and Renjun doesn’t have to hear the rest of the sentence to know where it’s going.

With a startling feeling of impending disaster, Renjun realises that maybe he had been wrong before. Everything had started with Mark Lee. Everything came back to Mark Lee. Perhaps, everything would end with Mark Lee.

(If only things were that simple.)

 

 

 

Jeno shifts but leans in, hooks his head over Renjun’s shoulder. “What’re you looking for?”

“Don’t know, anymore,” Renjun replies, words slurred together from tiredness and speaking too fast from Jeno’s proximity. He must have gone through all material available already. “Anything that’d make this investigation go forward but there’s.. nothing?”

After the confirmation of Mark’s death, everything seems to matter less. The previous goal of trying to find out what happened is gone which makes it so much more difficult to define because.. because it had become too tangible. Too real. Another mysteriously dead boy, one connected closely to the boys Renjun knows himself. 

Jeno fixes his glasses. The light hits the metal frames, a sharp glare bouncing back almost blindingly.

“You think there’s a cover-up?” Jeno asks. His tone doesn’t leave much room for it to be a question. Renjun responds as though it is.

“I’ve thought that for a while now.”

Jeno swallows drily.

Renjun shifts closer; their shoulders touch and the heat emitting from Jeno’s body is a reminder of life itself. He should be more careful, put some distance between them again. He hesitates. Truthfully, he doesn’t want to. Based on the interactions from the past weeks, Jeno doesn’t want that either. 

As if on cue, Jeno moves closer too. Their arms are pressed together from shoulder to elbow, and Renjun is struck by the thought of how wide Jeno is. How muscular he knows those arms to be from all the physical education classes and athletics days where tank tops have been worn. 

His throat goes dry.

The thought of death and ghosts, of malevolent spirits, of hauntings come to him. Jeno’s lips are slightly chapped, like he has forgotten to use the chapstick he keeps in the pocket of his school trousers. His nose cold when it bumps Renjun’s cheek. The kiss a little clumsy, shy, and the angle awkward. Renjun feels as though Jeno must be glaringly aware of how he’s never done this before. He pulls back with a small gasp. They are still close enough for the frames of Jeno’s glasses to press against his cheek.

“Is this, is this okay?” Jeno asks hesitantly. 

Renjun bridges the gap between them, his heart beating overpoweringly fast and loud, the sound of blood rushing through his veins. He moves to change positions, and the kisses are smoother now, the angle better as their lips touch. He feel courageous, emboldened by the confusion of everything else; Jeno is the one thing that remains solid and steady. They kiss again. And again.

The kisses get less shy, more relaxed, and then eventually hungry. How much time that passes is impossible to tell but before he knows it, Renjun winds up in Jeno’s lap, thighs straddling Jeno’s hips. At the feel of Jeno’s hard dick, even with the layers of fabric separating them, Renjun can’t help it — he whines. Embarrassingly so, undeniably so. 

It’s heavy. Large.

A solid shape pressed against his thigh, brushing up against his own dick when they move closer, grinding up against each other, and Renjun swallows down his emerging nervousness. If he wasn’t already so hot from having Jeno’s body aligned with his, from their kisses, Renjun might’ve burnt hot with the embarrassment that’s is due soon to set in.

“Maybe we should—” Jeno begins, but Renjun cuts him off with another kiss. Allows himself to enjoy this to the fullest, to let the rest of the world go away for a while.

 

 

 

“Excuse me,” a tall man asks, “I’m looking for Lee Jeno, can you tell me where he is?”

“His class is out for the day, some field-trip? They’ll return at maybe four or so,” Renjun replies. The man’s eyebrow twitches, almost unnoticeably. “Who are you?”

“I’m Kim Dongyoung.” Renjun must fail to conceal his surprise, because Dongyoung lets out a small chuckle. “You’ve heard of me?”

Renjun nods.

“You’re a friend of Jeno’s, then?”

“Huang Renjun.”

Dongyoung raises an eyebrow. “So you’re that friend.” 

Renjun tries his best not to flush, at least not so obviously that it can no longer be blamed on the cold. He doubts Dongyoung knows the whole truth about who he is to Jeno, but the way he phrases it makes sharp pungent anxiety and embarrassment spike. His palms are sweaty, clammy. 

“Come, let’s take a walk while we wait,” Dongyoung suggests. Renjun sees no reason to decline, regardless of sleet-grey skies and the even heavier dark clouds rolling in. He nods and they set off toward one of the short trails that just barely go into the forest before re-emerging on the open fields surrounding the school. 

“Did you know Mark?”

“We were in contact, sometimes,” Dongyoung says. “We met when I’d already graduated from NCT, but returned on behalf of my university.”

“What did you think of him?”

“Did I think as highly of him as everyone else? Of course. It is a shame that he came to see an end such as this.”

Renjun clears his throat. “They haven’t found who did it.”

Silence hangs in the air.

“You should give up,” Dongyoung says. 

“‘Give up’,” Renjun repeats monotonically. Inside, frustration and incredulity boils and brims. “What about what’s right?”

“Renjun, you’re a kid. Clever, yes, but you’re a lone kid up against a corrupt system.” 

Typical of the season, the wind picks up. Renjun pulls his coat tighter around his body, the cold seeping in even through the thick fabric. 

“What do you think will happen? You manage to find something more than a loose connection, any sort of evidence? And then what?” Dongyoung asks. Beneath his composed professionality it is easy to tell that he’s an overgrown know it all from how his tone barely stays on the right side of condescending. Renjun clenches his jaw. “The police won’t do anything. You’ve figured out already that they’ve been paid off to keep things under wraps.”

“How would you know that?” Renjun asks.

Dongyoung smiles, but it doesn’t look nice at all. It’s cold, sharp. Almost menacing. He looks more like the man Donghyuck has described, compared to the image of a beloved cousin of Jeno’s tales. “There isn’t any reason for you to get more involved than you already are.”

It is only sometimes that the pine trees can be described as looming. Then the smile fades away, and Dongyoung speaks much more kindly. ”You’re not the only person to care enough to look into this, Renjun.” 

Left in the wake of his words is a quiet sadness. It hits Renjun that Dongyoung’s solemnity is a reminder of what has been lost. What he had lost.

“They should be back soon,” Renjun mumbles.

“We best head back then.”

There is barely any time between them arriving at the courtyard and the rental bus showing up. It comes to a stop by the main gates, students emerging from within. Jeno walks alone, gaze locked on his phone and the game he’s always playing, and it isn't until he is only a good ten metres away that he looks up as if suddenly sensing something different. His eyes widen when he spots Dongyoung.

“Hyung?” 

“Jeno-yah,” Dongyoung greets him. The transformation is instantaneous and happens right in front of Renjun’s eyes, Dongyoung radiating warmth when he lays eyes on the younger.

Renjun stays put. From experience he knows this means he is going to fade into the background, and Dongyoung’s larger size means it is even easier for him to miss. Jeno's eyes are locked on Dongyoung as he walks closer to him. Surprise melts away from Jeno’s features and as always looks younger when he's this happy, crescent moon eyes and a smile taking over his face. 

"What are you doing here?" he asks Dongyoung, almost excitedly. Like it doesn’t even occur to him that maybe Dongyoung’s visit may be for any reason other than something pleasant. Dongyoung smiles still, hand reaching out to touch Jeno's arm.

"I have something I need to talk to you about." 

“What would that be?” Jeno cocking his head in question is the very image of a confused and curious puppy. Maybe a touch worried. Cold prickles at Renjun’s fingers, itching, and he digs them deeper into the pockets. He thinks back to the conversation he had with Dongyoung in the woods. 

Jeno notices him then. "Injunnie?"

"Hi," he says. Stupidly, a little disheartened. A self-conscious smile. Jeno smiles back. 

"This is Dongyoung-hyung,” Jeno says, almost questioningly. Here he looks between them. “But I assume you’ve met."

"We did," Dongyoung says. His face is back to neutral. Not stony, nothing so severe, but the smile from seeing Jeno is a just barely left and he looks ready to fool the world once again. That smile is a small remain of what he seems capable of, and Renjun wonders just how much Dongyoung could do. Intelligent and shrewd eyes set on him.

Dongyoung rests a hand on Jeno's back, between his shoulder blades. "Is there somewhere we could speak alone? I think your friend and I are done."

"Oh, yeah, sure," Jeno says. He looks confused and almost apologetic when he glances at Renjun. He mumbles out, “Injunnie, I’m sorry.”

"No, Dongyoung-ssi is right," Renjun agrees. He glances between the older man and Jeno. 

“I needed to find Jisung anyway,” Renjun says and it’s not a lie. Not wholly a lie, at least. “See you later?”

Jeno nods. 

 

 

 

Death is but part of the human experience. Unavoidable. The one certainty in life is death and truths which are lost with death can’t always be learnt in full. In trying to unravel the mystery of Mark Lee, Renjun stumbled across something much larger. He has the coming semester and a lifetime to make an attempt at forgetting, or unlearning, what he saw this year. He tries to not think about it too much. Too often. To not let his thoughts stray.

He wonders if the full truth will ever be known or if it died with Mark.


End file.
